


never fit right

by mercuryhatter



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Agender Character, Body Dysphoria, M/M, Other, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 10:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16617416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuryhatter/pseuds/mercuryhatter
Summary: to be honest I wasn't even going to publish this and then I thought, the only reason I wrote this is because I wished someone else had written it first so I could pass off my problems to fictional characters without having to do any work. so I'm putting this out there even though I may never actually polish or finish it in case someone else needs to see it.





	never fit right

**Author's Note:**

> to be honest I wasn't even going to publish this and then I thought, the only reason I wrote this is because I wished someone else had written it first so I could pass off my problems to fictional characters without having to do any work. so I'm putting this out there even though I may never actually polish or finish it in case someone else needs to see it.

_ 742 B.C., Nineveh, Neo-Assyrian Empire _

 

“I don’t know,” Crowley said, spinning a bracelet around his wrist absently. “It just doesn’t feel right. Maybe I’m still not used to legs or something.” 

 

“You had legs last time,” Aziraphale protested. He was quite a bit drunker than Crowley, who kept getting distracted by his own rambles and so had finished less than half the arak Aziraphale had. Crowley shrugged jerkily, remembered the cup in his hand, and drained it. 

 

“ _ Different  _ legs,” he insisted. “And… other things. You mean to tell me you’ve never been dissatisfied with the body you get? Heaven let you customize them or something?”

 

“It really never occurred to me,” Aziraphale said, then frowned. “Why, should I be?” He was on his second or third body since Heaven had started giving them out, and he honestly couldn’t remember the differences between them all. Currently, he was a little shorter than the average man, but broad, with dark curly hair and a prominent nose. Overall nondescript, but suddenly anxious about it. Crowley was only on his second human body, not counting the snakes. His first had been lanky almost to extremes, with a cloudy puff of hair and a notably sensuous mouth that Aziraphale had done his best  _ not _ to note. He was finally discorporated when he fell off a horse in the previous century, and had recently surfaced again in a shorter form with broad hips and round breasts, though he had done very little to adjust to the gender expectations such a body sometimes carried in this human culture.

 

“No,” Crowley snorted, looking Aziraphale up and down in a way that would have made him blush if he hadn’t already been red-cheeked from arak. “You have nothing to worry about, angel. Forget it.” 

 

_ Present Day, South Downs, England _

 

Aziraphale had almost forgotten that conversation in Nineveh by the time the subject came up again. For the next few millennia, Crowley had no complaints about his various bodies, and Aziraphale thought about his own so infrequently. Besides, after 1990 Aziraphale was just happy if his body didn’t have any other occupants. 

 

And then Crowley, ignominiously and in a way that surely would have been hilarious had it happened pre-apocalypse, was hit by a bus. 

 

The thing about the post-apocalypse was neither of them had any idea what the rules were anymore, and so what once would have been a decade’s minor joke became cause for a frankly embarrassing level of angelic panic. Aziraphale had been ready to march directly to Beelzebub after about a week when, in a record turnaround for Hell, Crowley showed up on the doorstep again in the middle of the night. 

 

“Wow,” he said, elbowing past Aziraphale to make his way out of the January cold, “they did  _ not _ want me sticking around down there, let me tell you.” 

 

Aziraphale just gaped at him until Crowley took pity and wrapped himself around the angel, gamely pretending that he couldn’t feel the slight pinprick of angelic tears on the exposed skin of his neck. 

 

“It’s okay, angel,” he said into Aziraphale’s hair. “It’s okay. They didn’t want me there. Too confusing to deal with, you know? They’re trying to forget the whole thing in the 90s never happened. Just shuffled me into the first body they had available and booted me back up here. Barely even had to fill out any paperwork.” Crowley feathered kisses behind Aziraphale’s ear, the closest available place to kiss. 

 

“Yes, well, I knew it would come out all right,” Aziraphale said primly, disentangling himself. The several kisses he pressed to Crowley’s lips only betrayed him slightly. “Still, dear, that was very stupid of you and I’m going to need you to not do it again.” 

 

“I didn’t  _ mean _ to,” Crowley grumbled. “Blessed thing came out of nowhere.” 

 

“Hm,” Aziraphale said, managing to pack enough disapproving condescension into the single syllable that Crowley bit his lower lip soundly the next time he leaned in for a kiss. Aziraphale wasn’t sure of the efficacy of this as a punishment because it just made him want Crowley closer with ever more urgency. He pulled him in by the hips and pushed his hands underneath the cardigan he wore, feeling chilled skin under his hands and the faintly lingering smell of brimstone where his face was tucked into Crowley’s neck. Crowley gave a pleased hum and allowed himself to be backed gently into the nearest wall. 

 

This body of Crowley’s was taller than Aziraphale’s, though just barely. His hips were round under Aziraphale’s hands, though still sharp where the bones pressed against skin, and undulated into a narrow waist. His shoulders were narrow too and he had the most delightfully delicate collarbones now that Aziraphale lost no time in mapping with his lips the moment he got the first few buttons of Crowley’s shirt open. 

 

Crowley wriggled under the attention, his thigh pushing up between Aziraphale’s legs, long-fingered hands playing down Aziraphale’s spine. 

 

“Upstairs,” he urged, “I’m not used to this thing yet-- don’t trust my coordination--” Before he could finish, Aziraphale had whisked them to the bedroom, Crowley laid out beneath him on the bed, both their clothes banished to the floor. 

 

“It’s lovely,” Aziraphale said. Crowley made an ambivalent noise. 

 

“It’s alive. Stop looking at it and kiss me already.” He sat up to kiss Aziraphale first, arching his back so their chests touched, then stopped.

 

“No, don’t like that,” he muttered. “Like this.” He turned over onto his stomach, pushed back against Aziraphale until he was sitting on Aziraphale’s lap and pulled the angel’s arms around him from behind, bending back in a way that suggested a somewhat serpentine spine to kiss and be kissed as he guided Aziraphale into him. 

 

Afterwards, Crowley spent an inordinate amount of time arranging himself into a nest of blankets before he finally let Aziraphale wrap around him and the bundle that now swaddled him. He looked like he was brooding. 

 

“There’s nothing you aren’t telling me about Down There, is there?” Aziraphale asked at last. Crowley shook his head. “And you’re sure you’re all right?”

 

“‘M fine.” 

 

Aziraphale’s answering worried silence was so loud that Crowley let out an explosive sigh and relented.

 

“I just don’t like the body they gave me, that’s all. Bet they did it on purpose,” he muttered darkly. “They know I never fit right in this kind.” 

 

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, an arak-tinged memory filtering back to him through millennia. 

 

“I know you don’t think about them like that,” Crowley said, sounding embarrassed and almost a little envious. “I get too attached, I suppose. Don’t worry about it.” 

 

“You could always appeal?” Aziraphale suggested tentatively. “If they really don’t want you around so much they might just give you want to get rid of you.” 

 

“Yeah,” Crowley sighed. “Maybe.” 


End file.
